


Mourning Doves

by Amikotsu



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bipolar Disorder, Cupcakes, Day 9, Depression, Hospitals, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, KakaObi Week 2019, M/M, Obito's birthday, Triggers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-10-28 17:21:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17791574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amikotsu/pseuds/Amikotsu
Summary: It happened again. Obito wasn’t strong enough, and it happened again. He didn’t know how much more Kakashi could take, and that scared him. What if Kakashi left him? What then?





	Mourning Doves

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dieseldevi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dieseldevi/gifts).



> I hate leaving notes, but this is a story with a lot of triggers. The whole thing is one big trigger. Please take a look at the tags! This story means a lot to me. That's all!

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d left his house; Obito couldn’t remember the last time he’d gone downstairs. He ignored his stomach’s loud demands for sustenance -- he starved himself. Little by little, he was falling apart. His downward spiral had taken a deadly turn. He’d let it happen again. He hadn’t been strong enough to fight it off. He couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment when the anhedonia finally kicked in, but he recalled simple instances. First, he’d stopped painting; then, he’d stopped reading. He’d stopped listening to music. He’d stopped watching television. The only thing he had left was his bed, and he clung to the mattress, to the blankets, to his pillows, as if his bed would save him from himself. 

Days blurred together. Day bled into night, and night into day, for weeks. Nothing mattered. He didn’t care if months passed. He didn’t care if years passed. Some part of him knew that the thoughts weren’t his own, that everything he felt was one big ball of lies. He watched how his behavior affected his husband, but he felt powerless to alter his ways. He’d lost another round, experienced another freefall, and no one could save him. Nothing had worked. It felt as if, one day, he’d simply woken up as someone else. He felt as if someone had torn him to shreds and taped him back together again. Pieces of himself were missing. He wasn’t Obito anymore. He’d let it happen again.

“Obito, we need to talk.”

“What do you want?”

“Obito, look at me.”

Obito forced himself to roll over onto his side, then he looked up at the doorway. Kakashi was leaning against the frame, a cup of coffee in one hand and the phone in the other. For the past few weeks, Kakashi had tried everything imaginable to bring Obito back, but Obito was long gone. He’d fallen off the cliff and landed on the jagged rocks below. Some poor sap had stumbled across his remains. Maybe that poor sap was Kakashi. Kakashi really deserved better. Obito wondered if the man had come to the same realization. That thought pierced Obito’s heart, drawing out more and more of the darkness within. Obito couldn’t bring himself to look into Kakashi’s eyes, so he looked at a spot on Kakashi’s forehead.

“I think you need help,” Kakashi finally said. That explained the phone. Obito’s eyes drifted to the coffee cup, and he wondered how long Kakashi had been awake, how much of the day had already gone. “I’m taking you to the hospital.”

“No,” Obito said, turning onto his back. He didn’t want to go to the hospital, the place where doctors and nurses treated people like cattle. He wasn’t something to poke and prod. He was fine. He knew he would eventually gather up the tiny shreds of himself and truly complete his puzzle. He just needed more time. That’s how he worked. His moods fluctuated. He rode highs and lows like a pro. He didn’t need a hospital to tell him that.

“Obito, you stopped taking your medication.” Kakashi let frustration bleed into his voice and that had Obito looking at him again. Their eyes finally met. Kakashi had dark circles around his eyes and deep frown lines near his mouth. His hair stuck up in a thousand different directions. He hadn’t combed and styled his hair. Kakashi had always been very particular when it came to his appearance, so that meant something. “I can’t do this anymore.”

“So that’s it? I’m having problems, so you send me away?” Obito didn’t care that he shouted at Kakashi. He rose up from the bed, as if he were rising from the grave. He drew on strength he didn’t know he had, and he wasted it tearing down the man he loved. “Who helped you after your dad killed himself? I did! I was there for you! And when Minato died. And when Kushina died. I was there!”

“Obito, you need help!” Kakashi threw the phone and it smacked off the wall, leaving a small dent behind. Obito closed his mouth and settled for glaring at Kakashi. Obito didn’t want Kakashi to leave him, but he thought that maybe Kakashi leaving would make the man happy, happy in a way that Obito couldn’t. “I’m working sixty hours a week and coming home to take care of you. I can’t juggle everything on my own. We don’t have the support system for this.”

“I don’t need your help!” Obito reached down, hand feeling along the floor. When his fingertips brushed against the remains of their phone, he threw it back at Kakashi. The phone bounced off the door frame and skidded across the floor, getting lost in the shadow of a mountain of dirty clothes. “Just get out of here.”

“No, we’re going to the hospital,” Kakashi declared. He set his cup of coffee down on the dresser and walked over to the closet, where he started pulling shirts and pants off hangers. There weren’t many clean clothes left. Chores fell to the wayside. Obito remembered the mountain of dishes he’d seen in the kitchen sink, when he’d managed to drag himself to the kitchen.

“Leave me alone!”

“You’re going to the hospital, or I’m leaving.” Kakashi stopped throwing clothes into a duffel bag and rounded on Obito. He threw the bag onto the bottom of the bed and clothes popped out, sleeves hanging over the sides, pant legs protruding from the top. “I mean it. I’m done.” Obito didn’t say anything -- he couldn’t say anything -- so Kakashi continued. “I’m done forcing you to eat. I’m done dragging you into the shower. I’m done listening to you sob when you think I’m asleep. Obito, you’ve lost a lot of weight. You stink. All you do is cry or explode at me. You’re not the person I married. You need help.”

“Whose clothes are you packing?”

“Do I need to pack mine?”

Kakashi needed someone else. He deserved someone with stability, someone with something to offer. Obito remembered their wedding day, how their family and friends had gathered -- there hadn't been many of them. Back then, Kakashi’s father had been alive. Obito had spilled sake on himself, and everyone had snickered. His hands had been shaking and he’d tipped the _sakazuki_ too much. Obito remembered the look in Kakashi’s eyes, the fondness that the man still held, somewhere deep, deep down. They had left Konoha and traveled to Kirigakure, where they spent three days holed up in an inn, just happy to be with one another. They had both been married before. Kakashi had been married to Iruka, and Obito had been married to Rin. Somehow, they’d found one another, and they’d never wanted to let go.

And then Obito had his first manic episode. That’s what his doctor had called it. Mania. Obito only remembered the euphoria, the wondrous nature of being free. Before Kakashi had noticed something was wrong, Obito had spent half their savings on frivolous things. Obito didn’t even remember how he got to the hospital. He remembered being home, and then staring out the hospital window as Kakashi got in their blue Honda. What followed wasn’t pretty. He felt like a caged animal, constantly mumbling and pacing; he was up day and night, frantically writing down ideas for a book. He wanted to be an author then. He’d always wanted to write a book. Kakashi hadn’t signed up for someone like Obito. His doctor had called it _bipolar disorder_ , but Obito had called it hell.

“Maybe you should go,” Obito whispered. He’d moved into a seated position. He stared down at the sheets that had pooled in his lap. They had been washed recently, just for him. Kakashi tried so hard. Kakashi _always_ tried so hard. Even when Kakashi needed help, even when Kakashi forced himself to keep going. Obito couldn’t imagine what he’d do, if the tables were turned.

“That’s it?”

“What do you want me to say? You deserve someone better. I haven’t given you a single thing. All I do is make things harder. I left you once, but you came and got me. Remember? I was at a bus station in Suna, with no money and nowhere to go. Why do you keep trying? It’s a lot easier to just stop.” 

Kakashi turned and sat down on the edge of the bed. He ran his hands over his face and then gripped the sheets in tight fists. Obito wondered if Kakashi had even heard him -- Obito had been mumbling. The two of them sat in silence, Obito too tired to continue, and Kakashi too wounded to speak. They’d only been married a year. Twelve months was enough. Twelve months of ups; twelve months of downs. Obito had experienced it all. Kakashi had gone along for the ride.

“This isn’t you, Obito. This is your mental illness.”

“You’d be better off without me.”

“Please go to the hospital.”

Outside, a mourning dove sounded, drawing forth more memories. Obito used to sit on the _engawa_ and watch them foraging for food. One year, he’d made feeders for them from old paint cans. He’d painted them and put seeds along the inside. The green and blue cans had plenty of mourning doves flying around the yard, and it kept them out of his garden. He used to have a nice garden. That had died months ago. For a while, Kakashi had tried to keep it going, but he wasn’t very good with gardening; Obito had joked that Kakashi killed every plant he ever touched. Only weeds remained.

“Okay.” 

Obito didn’t move. He thought of the last time he’d visited the hospital. He’d begged Kakashi to take him home on a daily basis, once he’d earned telephone privileges. Obito had spent days completing puzzles and word searches, until his medications started working and he was stable enough to handle socializing. Then he’d played board games with a man named Gai, who also had bipolar disorder. He’d stayed in touch with Gai, for as long as he could, up until Gai had to go back to the hospital. And then Obito had declined too. Obito thought of bipolar disorder as hell, but he also considered it a rollercoaster. When he reached the top, all that remained was the bottom. When he reached the bottom, all that remained was the top.

“Take a shower and get some clothes on. I’ll finish packing your bag.”

“Do you still love me?” Obito didn’t know why he asked. Maybe he didn’t think it was possible to love someone like him. Kakashi had already gotten to his feet and resumed packing, but he paused then to look over at Obito. 

“Yes, I still love you.” Kakashi smiled, a sad smile that paired well with the exhaustion in his eyes. Obito had needed those words like he needed air. Kakashi walked around the bed and tugged Obito to his feet, then placed a kiss on Obito’s cheek. Obito was extremely aware of the fact that he smelled, that his hair was greasy and lifeless, that he wore the same clothes he’d been in for days, maybe even weeks. “Do you need help in the shower?”

“No, I got it,” Obito replied, already moving toward the door. The bathroom was across from the bedroom, and the door was partially open.

Obito went to the mirror first, where he verified that he did, in fact, look like shit. His hair was up on one side, from his position on his pillow, and down on the other. He needed a shave too. Despite the twelve hours he’d spent sleeping, he still looked tired. He and Kakashi made quite the pair. Obito didn’t know what made him open the medicine cabinet, what made him look for the razor. No, he didn’t want to go to the hospital, and so he thought he’d hurt himself. Kakashi had taken everything sharp and pointy. Both razors were gone. He closed the medicine cabinet and held onto the sides of the sink. 

“I took them.” Kakashi stood in the doorway, Obito’s duffel bag in his left hand. Obito didn’t turn to look at Kakashi. He didn’t want to see the expression on Kakashi’s face. He heard the hurt in Kakashi’s voice. “I thought you might try to hurt yourself. I hid the knives too.”

“I wasn’t going to hurt myself,” Obito lied. Slowly, he turned his head to see Kakashi’s face. The man frowned at him, and Obito knew that Kakashi had seen right through him. “I want to shave.”

“I’ll help you.”

“I can do it myself.”

“I know that, but I’m not letting you have a razor. You’ll do what you did last time and try to slit your wrists.” Kakashi had to mention the last time, the last time Obito had fallen, the last time depression wrapped itself around Obito. He hadn’t been thinking clearly, or maybe he’d been too focused -- he couldn’t decide between the two. He’d succeeded in dragging a serrated knife across his right wrist, and then Kakashi had wrestled the knife away. He still had the ugly scar. He had a reminder that he’d failed. He’d made shame a physical form.

“I didn’t do it on purpose,” Obito lied again. He lied a lot, when it came to his illness. He lied to cover his tracks; he lied to blind Kakashi to so many different things. Normally, he detested lying, but lying became another symptom, whenever he fell, whenever he rose. 

“Take a shower and I’ll help you shave,” Kakashi said, leaving no room for argument.

Obito felt like a child all over again. He couldn’t do anything without specific instructions, without someone holding his hand. Obito went to shut Kakashi out, but Kakashi shoved his foot in between the door frame and the door, stopping Obito. The door stayed open. It went without saying. As Obito shed his clothing, Kakashi watched, as if Obito would produce some other type of sharp tool. Obito had to jump into the shower, hiding behind the light-blue curtain. Kakashi didn’t leave until the shower went on. 

Obito didn’t have it in him to shower, so he filled the tub with water. He hated himself for it. As the water rose over his legs, he wondered if he could drown himself. Kakashi came back though. Kakashi shoved the curtain aside, grabbed a washcloth, and started applying soap. He scrubbed at Obito’s body, starting with Obito’s arms. Kakashi must have known that Obito would have simply sat there in the water, silently rotting away. Obito didn’t bother putting up a fight. It was the second time Kakashi had touched him in weeks. The first time had been the kiss in the bedroom. 

“Do you want me to wash your hair?”

“Is it really bad?” 

“Yes.” Kakashi ran a damp hand over Obito’s greasy hair, frowning in disgust. Obito stared down at the dirty water, and then he nodded. Obito didn’t have any shampoo, hadn’t had any for a while, so Kakashi used his own. It smelled like peppermint, though it wasn’t overpowering. “Tilt your head back.”

Kakashi had brought a plastic cup, and he filled it with water, repeating the process several times. Once the soap was out of Obito’s hair, Kakashi leaned back and looked at him. The water was murky, more grey than anything, and Obito felt the familiar stirrings of shame. He hadn’t had the strength to shower, something simple and easy. If Kakashi wanted to make Obito feel worse, he would have said something about the dirt, about the ring it would leave in the tub. 

“Come on. I’ll grab you a towel.” Kakashi pulled the plug and the water started draining. He stepped out before it was finished, leaving Obito sitting there.

“Kakashi, wait,” Obito called. Kakashi poked his head back into the bathroom, but he didn’t say anything. “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want an apology, Obito. I want you to feel better.” Kakashi said it in a way that had Obito rethinking his view on the hospital. 

Kakashi just wanted what was best for Obito. Obito had thought that Kakashi was being selfish. Then again, maybe there was some selfishness involved too. Obito couldn’t blame him. Obito bowed his head and watched the dark water slowly empty out of the tub. He watched the dirt collect in the bottom, watched it slide toward the drain. Without any coaxing, Obito stood up. He hated crying, hated showing weakness, but he cried then. He really didn’t deserve Kakashi.

“Here.” Kakashi had returned and handed Obito a towel. Obito stepped out of the tub and onto the shower mat, then he wrapped the towel around his waist. Kakashi had a razor on hand, Obito’s razor, and he motioned for Obito to sit on the edge of the tub. “Hold still,” Kakashi instructed him. Kakashi acted like a professional -- he didn’t cut Obito at all. When Kakashi was done, Obito showered and shaved, Kakashi wrapped his arms around Obito. They stood there, Kakashi leaning into Obito, cheek pressed against Obito’s damp hair.

“If this is what it took for you to hold me, I would have bathed a long time ago,” Obito joked. Kakashi didn’t laugh, but he did snort. The moment passed so quickly, and Obito felt a weight settle in his stomach. “How long do you think they’ll keep me?”

“It won’t be long,” Kakashi promised him.

“What if I want to go home?” When Kakashi didn’t respond, Obito repeated the question. “What if I want to go home?” 

“You need to stay until they think you’re getting better.” Kakashi had pulled back, though he kissed Obito’s forehead. Kakashi didn’t look like he’d wanted to answer, but Obito would have repeated the question a dozen more times, and Kakashi knew that. Obito looked like he’d tasted something sour. “If it’s too long, I’ll come and get you, okay?” Obito knew it was a lie.

On the drive to the hospital, Obito tried to memorize the way the streets and buildings looked in the afternoon sunshine. He would lose his cell phone. He would lose his belt. They’d dress him in paper pants and a paper shirt, stripping him of his sense of self. When they passed the middle school, the halfway point between their home and the hospital, Obito turned to look at Kakashi, taking in the man’s profile. He didn’t want to go, but he knew Kakashi needed a break. Obito knew they both needed help. Kakashi reached over and took Obito’s left hand, their joined hands resting atop the center console. Somehow, Kakashi still loved Obito. Even after Obito threw Sakumo’s suicide in Kakashi’s face. Even after Obito reminded Kakashi of the car crash that killed Minato and Kushina. Nothing Obito had said had shaken Kakashi, at least not on the surface. Kakashi always bottled up his feelings. Maybe he thought that Obito couldn’t handle the added stress. Obito didn’t know.

After Kakashi pulled into a parking space near the edge of the hospital lot, he turned the car off and stared out the windshield at the concrete wall in front of their car. He brushed his thumb over Obito’s hand over and over again. Obito wondered if Kakashi could handle the quiet in their house; Obito wondered if Kakashi would miss him. Kakashi was the first one to leave the car, and he was the one to collect Obito’s bag from the backseat. 

“I’ll visit you, as soon as you’re cleared for visitation,” Kakashi promised him, just another promise to Obito’s growing pile of promises. 

The walk to the emergency-room entrance was short, far too short. Kakashi hadn’t let go of Obito’s hand; Obito didn’t want him to let go. Kakashi led him to the front desk and explained that Obito had relapsed. That was the word Kakashi had used before, reminding Obito of an addict. Obito had _relapsed_. The woman at the front desk smiled at them and handed them a clipboard with a couple of papers attached to it. The hospital needed updated information, such as Obito’s insurance provider and the name of Obito’s primary care physician. Kakashi had picked Konoha General because Obito’s psychiatrist frequented the fourth floor, the so-called psych ward. Kakashi took a seat in the waiting room and began filling out the paperwork, while Obito walked over to the refreshment table and made a small cup of decaf coffee. The hospital only served decaf. 

“I don’t think I can do this,” Obito admitted. He’d taken a seat next to Kakashi, his paper cup of coffee nearly empty. Kakashi had turned the paperwork over fifteen minutes before, so they only had each other. Again, Kakashi took Obito’s hand. “I want to leave. I changed my mind.”

“Obito, we’re already here. It’ll be okay,” Kakashi tried soothing him. Obito looked back toward the exam rooms, where the curtains were drawn. Doctors and nurses moved from room to room, the curtains constantly opening and closing. “Don’t you want to get better?”

“You make me sound diseased, like I’m contagious!”

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

“Uchiha?” A nurse stood there, a clipboard in her right hand. She looked right at Obito and Obito saw her exhaustion too. She looked run down, as if she’d been doing the same thing over and over again for countless hours. “Uchiha?” She started moving toward Obito and Kakashi placed a hand on Obito’s back, steadying both men. 

“Yeah,” Obito finally said, raising one hand in a half-hearted wave. She motioned for Obito to follow her, but Obito felt rooted to the spot. Kakashi had to rub little circles on Obito’s back, had to give him more strength for the rest of his stay in the hospital.

“It’s okay, Obito. Dr. Yamanaka will take care of you.” Kakashi had stopped rubbing Obito’s back. He’d handed Obito the bag of clothes, carefully passing the responsibility off onto Obito. Obito took the first steps toward the exam rooms, but he looked back at Kakashi. “It’ll be okay,” Kakashi assured him.

Obito wanted to say something mean, something so cruel that just the thought of the words left him reeling. Right then, he didn’t like Kakashi. He wanted to punch Kakashi, for ever thinking of the hospital, for ever giving Obito the choice of whether Kakashi stayed or left. But Obito dropped his bag on the floor and went back to Kakashi. He threw his arms around the man, wrapping Kakashi in the tightest hug he could manage. He inhaled the scent of Kakashi’s shampoo; he inhaled the lingering scent of Kakashi’s cologne. The nurse stood by the third exam room, her eyes locked on the scene, as if she’d witnessed the same thing hundreds of times. Kakashi kissed Obito on the lips, then the two separated. It was a goodbye, as far as goodbyes went, and it hurt.

Leaving Kakashi there, right in the middle of the waiting room, was a lot harder than Obito had thought. Obito kept looking back, and his eyes kept meeting Kakashi’s. When he reached the exam room, when the curtain closed him in, Obito refused to speak. He’d left his bravery somewhere else -- he didn’t know exactly where -- and he couldn’t stand the idea of using his voice. He wanted Kakashi. He wanted Kakashi to throw the curtain aside, grab his hand, and take him back to the car. He wanted to listen to the mourning doves as they fluttered about the backyard.

“Change into these,” the nurse instructed him.

She handed him the familiar paper pants and paper shirt. He had to earn the right to wear his clothes. She left him alone to change, and he took his time, neatly folding his shirt, neatly folding his pants. He had to leave his shoes, exchanging them for a pair of hospital socks. Even with the thick material, he felt the chill from the floor. He took one more step toward the psych ward, one more step away from whatever he’d built with Kakashi. He wasn’t his mental illness. That’s what his doctor had stressed. Why did it feel like he was bipolar disorder though? 

The elevator ride to the fourth floor was too quiet. The nurse from the emergency room had handed him off to a male nurse. The new nurse wore dark blue scrubs and white sneakers, sneakers that squeaked whenever he took a step. He collected Obito’s bag, the bag stuffed with Obito’s clothes and shoes and phone. Obito didn’t know why he’d taken his phone, not when he knew the hospital policy on cell phones. He just needed to know he had it on him; he just needed something extra to make him feel secure. 

“You’ll be rooming with Akio,” the new nurse said, leading Obito into the locked ward.

They had to wait for someone to buzz them in, and then they were locked inside, two thick doors separating Obito from the rest of the world. The nurse left Obito outside of the first room they came across, then the man went to lock Obito’s belongings away. Obito stood in the doorway, staring at the newly made twin bed. The other bed had a checkered comforter on top, and the bedside table to the left of the bed had small cards on top, all of them handmade. Obito’s bedside table sat to the right of his bed, the top clear and the drawers empty. Obito crossed the room to stare out of the window. Looking through the bars, he caught a glimpse of Kakashi getting back into their blue Honda. He thought he saw Kakashi looking up at the fourth floor, so he waved. Of course Kakashi couldn’t see Obito.

“No! Stay away from me! Get your fucking hands off me!”

A man burst into the doorway, quickly followed by two nurses, one male and one female. The male nurse grabbed the guy and held him down, while the female nurse jabbed a needle into the guy’s upper right arm. Obito stood there, watching the scene unfold, his hands grasping the sides of his pants. He’d found his roommate. 

“That’ll help you calm down,” the male nurse said, breathing ragged. Who knew how long Akio had been fighting against them. “You don’t come at a doctor.” The two nurses looked over at Obito, seeing him for the first time, and then they retreated from the room, leaving Akio and Obito alone.

Akio remained on the floor. He rolled over onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. The tile had a brown spot there, from where the roof had leaked. Obito wondered if the roof still leaked, if they’d have to get a bucket to catch the water. When Obito finally moved, he moved over to his bed and sat down on the edge. He’d been Akio, at one time. He’d needed shots to keep him calm. He’d been up, up, up. He’d been disagreeable at best and violent at worst. Obito missed Kakashi. He still felt the familiar stirring of anger, but that emotion wasn’t strong enough, not anymore. When Akio dragged himself to his feet, he went over to his bed and collapsed atop the black-and-white comforter. 

“Who’re you?” Akio turned his head to stare at Obito and Obito looked away.

“None of your damn business,” Obito replied, frowning.

Akio’s side of the room had coloring pages taped to the walls. Disney princesses in vibrant reds and greens stared back at Obito. Akio was a grown man, and he had Disney princesses taped to his walls. Obito remembered when he’d been the same. He’d spent a lot of time coloring in the Alice in Wonderland coloring book. He’d only been allowed to use crayons -- the staff didn’t want the patients stabbing themselves with sharpened colored pencils. Akio laughed, the sound soft, at first, before it grew louder. Obito didn’t think he’d told a joke, that he’d said something even remotely funny.

“You better learn how to get along here, if you ever want to get out,” Akio explained, sitting up so that he leaned back on his elbows. Obito wondered how the guy wasn’t fast asleep. The drugs usually knocked Obito right out. “I’ve been here for two months.”

“Months?” 

“Months.”

Obito thought of Kakashi all over again. Obito would lose two months of his life, two months he’d never get back again. Obito tried to imagine himself in Akio’s shoes; he tried to imagine being so resigned that he gave in to Disney princesses. Then again, he wondered if he’d get out at all. Akio had been there for two months, but he had more days ahead. Obito had only been there for five minutes and he wanted out. He wanted his clothes. He wanted his phone. He wanted to go home. Obito moved to the center of his bed and brought his knees up toward his chest. Akio watched him.

“So who dropped you off?”

“How do you know I didn’t check myself in?”

“You don’t want to be here. No one wants to be here.”

“My husband dropped me off.”

Akio whistled, then he relaxed into his comforter. He turned onto his side to face Obito, while Obito stared at the far wall. The air conditioning in the hospital was on and Obito wished that he had long sleeves. Akio was dressed in a red sweatshirt, hands hidden in the long sleeves. Akio didn’t seem like he’d earned his clothes, but Obito didn’t want to waste time judging the man. When Obito turned to look at Akio, he found the man was still staring. 

“Did you hurt yourself too?”

“No.”

“Yeah? They found me in my garage. I tried carbon monoxide poisoning.”

“That was stupid.”

They lapsed into silence and Akio rolled onto his back, resuming his former position. Obito lay down on his bed and turned his back to Akio. From his angle, Obito could see some of the parking lot below. He couldn’t see where Kakashi had once parked. The car wouldn’t have been there anyway. When dinner came, Akio rolled out of bed and headed over to the door.

“You should eat. They’re watching to see if you do,” Akio said, waiting for Obito to get up. Obito waved a hand in Akio’s direction, and then he heard the door close.

Obito thought about Kakashi again, or maybe he’d never really stopped. Before he knew it, Akio was back, carrying an apple and a carton of milk. He set the items down on Obito’s bedside table, and then went to his own bed again. Obito rolled over and examined the items. The apple looked ripe and delicious, its skin a shiny red, while the small milk carton was unopened. Obito reached out for the apple first and tested its weight in his hand.

“I told them you weren’t feeling well. They let me bring those back,” Akio said, flipping through a coloring book. Obito looked away and took a big bite of the apple. Juice rolled down his chin and decorated his white shirt.

“Why are you being so nice?” Obito spoke in between bites, some of the words garbled from the fact that he hadn’t stopped chewing. Akio glanced over at Obito, then reached into one of the drawers on his own bedside table. He had a small box with crayons of all different colors.

“The person that was here before you helped me out. It’s how I got my clothing and phone privileges.”

“What about visitors?”

“I don’t have anyone to visit me, so it doesn’t really bother me whether I have that privilege or not. My wife left me. My daughter found me, and she wanted me in this place.”

“I don’t know if I want my husband to see me here,” Obito confessed, staring at the half-eaten apple. “I want to go home.”

They didn’t talk anymore. By ten in the evening, the room light went off, casting them both into darkness. Obito couldn’t sleep. He’d never been very good at falling asleep in foreign places. He eventually got up to stare out the window, until a nurse came by to check on them. He’d had to jump back into bed and even out his breathing. He fell asleep that way, partially under the covers. The next morning, they had an early breakfast, which Obito had attended. They ate in a small room that reminded Obito of a cafeteria from his middle school. The tables were crushed into the room and everyone was on top of one another. It smelled like disinfectant and old coffee. Obito didn’t know if he could handle another meal in the room. He sat near the door, and he was the first one finished with his food.

“Obito, since you’re new, you can introduce yourself. Tell us a little about yourself.” 

They had group next, the first gathering of the day, and Obito sat near the door again, just waiting for an opportunity to escape. He didn’t want to be there, but he didn’t want to be in the hospital for two months either. Obito bounced his leg, heel repeatedly touching against the cold tiles. He didn’t know what to say. The social worker leading the group session seemed to know that, but she kept waiting for him to say something.

“I’m Obito. I don’t want to be here.” There was murmuring and a few similar responses. The counselor clapped her hands, and everyone looked to the front of the room. She didn’t look upset, after she’d heard Obito’s response. She looked as if she’d expected the words.

“You need to be here though, don’t you, Obito?”

“Not really.” Obito shrugged his shoulders, his shirt rustling with the movement. “It was come here or get another divorce.” She didn’t ask Obito to say anything else. 

Two days later, Obito got his clothing back. After he’d changed into a long-sleeved shirt and a pair of sweats, he picked a couch down at the end of the long hallway and stared out the window. The hospital looked out over the hillside, so he saw dozens upon dozens of trees. He watched the ravens as they swept through the air, wings spread wide, circling around and around. Obito thought of home. Akio found him there and took a seat in one of the chairs. While Obito wrote in his journal, Akio did word searches.

“How are you feeling?” Akio looked up from his word search to see Obito’s face. Obito stopped writing, but he kept his eyes on the lined pages of his notebook. “You look like shit, man.”

“I haven’t showered,” Obito confessed, the end of his crayon leaving blue dots on his page. He really didn’t know what he was writing anyway. He’d just wanted to take his mind off of things. “I heard you’re getting out in a few days.”

“Yeah, it’s overdue. I’m as fixed as I’m going to get, I guess,” Akio said, pausing to circle another word. “Did you get phone privileges yet?”

“Who am I going to call? The husband who gave me an ultimatum or my dead grandmother?”

“Whoa, anger,” Akio said, holding up both hands in defense. Obito didn’t think he’d sounded angry, more resigned than anything. Akio stuck his crayon in the pages of his puzzle book and closed it. “It’s only been a couple of days. You’ll think differently.”

“What would I say? That I haven’t showered because I don’t want to lose the smell of peppermint, or that I’m exhausted because of the shit they put me on?”

“You say whatever you want. It’s your phone time.”

“They stand there and listen to the conversations,” Obito muttered, making angry lines across half of his blank page. He could have mentioned that they stood outside of the showers too, but he didn’t. Akio already knew those things. Obito just wanted to say something. He wanted someone to listen to him. He didn’t have anyone else but Akio, and maybe that was a good thing. Obito could finally give up. Kakashi had left him. He didn’t owe Kakashi a damn thing.

“My daughter told me she didn’t want to see me anymore unless I came here. Do you know how angry that made me? And then how sad? I wasted a lot of time going back and forth between the two. Do you want to waste time? Do you want to be in here for months?”

“Being here is a waste of time!”

“Fake ‘til you make it, Obito. That’s how you handle this place.”

“Stop making it into a game!”

“What the fuck do you think this is? Do you think you can bitch and moan and go home? You won’t get anywhere doing that shit, Obito.” Akio leaned forward in his chair and swatted Obito’s left knee with the puzzle book. Obito retaliated by stabbing the back of Akio’s hand with a crayon. Somehow, they ended up rolling around on the floor, throwing punches at one another. Two nurses had to break them up, and then Akio and Obito went right back at one another. Obito watched in horror as two more nurses came at them, each one holding a needle.

“Stop! I’m done! I’m done!” Obito cried out, fighting against the nurse that held him down. On the other side of the hallway, Akio was cursing and cursing, all of the foul words running together. Obito felt the pinch on his upper arm, and then he was left on the floor. Akio was across from him, back against the wall. “Look what you fucking did!”

“You stabbed me with a crayon and punched me in the eye!” Akio pulled his arm back and launched the puzzle book at Obito’s head. Obito ducked and the book bounced off the wall and skidded across the cold floor. For a moment, neither of them said anything. “I was going home,” Akio whispered, head tipped back, eyes on the small window at the top of the wall.

“So you can actually succeed in killing yourself? You deserve to be here.”

“And what, you don’t belong here? I bet your husband couldn’t wait to get rid of you.”

The nurses went back and dragged Obito off of Akio. They took Obito back to the room and shut him inside. He ripped the sheets off his bed, threw his pillow across the room, and then he started on Akio’s side of the room. He tore the colored pictures to shreds, then he started in on Akio’s cards. By the time Akio got there, after the man had fought to get away from the nurses stationed outside, the room looked as if a tornado had hit. Akio collected the remains of his daughter’s cards and sat on the floor, holding them to his chest. The medicine that they’d given Obito had kicked in, so he collapsed onto his bare bed, unfocused eyes staring off into space. The next day, Obito had his own room. Someone else moved in with Akio.

Obito waited two long weeks for phone privileges, but he didn’t call home, and Kakashi never called the hospital. When Obito finally had visitation, four weeks after his date of entry, he didn’t get a visitor. By that point, Akio was long gone. Obito spent his days and nights on autopilot, following the last bit of advice Akio had given him. He faked his way through meals. He faked his way through group. He faked his way through showers and recreational time and night checks. And Kakashi never showed up. When February rolled around, when the days had turned cold and rainy, Obito finally had his first visitor. It wasn’t Kakashi.

“Where is he?”

“He couldn’t get time off, Obito.”

“So he sends _you_?” Obito got up from the table they were seated at and made his way to the door. Rin reached out and grabbed his arm, but he shook her off. He stood there, staring into her eyes, until he finally went back to his seat. They were in the crowded cafeteria room again, crammed into a corner. The other patients with visitors talked animatedly, but not Obito. “Why would he send you?”

“He and I are still friends. The only one making it awkward is you,” Rin said, scooting her chair in toward the table. Obito grunted and avoided looking at her. His dark eyes remained on the table, until she finally cleared her throat. “May I speak now? You’re always running away from me. It’s what you did during our marriage too,” she added.

“I tried to make it work!” Obito hissed the words and one of the nurses watching the room looked in his direction. He covered his face with his hands and leaned back in his seat. 

“Fine. Let’s talk about you. How are you?”

“I’m in the fucking psych ward. How do you think I’m doing, Rin?” She winced, but he didn’t feel bad for his harsh reaction. His temper flared up every now and then, and he’d never been very good at dealing with it. The medication they put him on helped stabilize him, helped take the edge off, but it only did so much. “Is he going to come see me?”

“He will. Next week.”

“It’s my birthday.”

“He knows.”

“He better show up.”

“He will.”

The rest of visitation passed without another word. Rin had brought him a book to read, but he threw it onto his bedside table and forgot about it. Their marriage hadn’t ended on a good note, and he never really forgave her for leaving him. Then again, coming out to your wife promised nothing but problems. As the days ticked by, Obito let go of the anger. At least someone had visited him. Most of his family had washed their hands of him years ago, right after he broke an arranged marriage and married Rin instead. He had a few cousins that still spoke to him, on occasion: He had Itachi and Shisui, and he supposed he had Sasuke too. They were young enough to forgive him, and yet old enough to understand. He hadn’t spoken to them since the wedding though. He really had let all of his relationships deteriorate. No wonder he’d failed to stave off depression. He only had one person in his life, and that person couldn’t even visit him.

The new week started on Monday, but no one stopped to visit him. By Friday, he gave up on Kakashi altogether. He wrote a lot in his journal, mostly small poems about birds, embarrassingly enough. He wanted to be a bird, so that he could fly away, and so he was one, at least in the pages of his journal. Obito contemplated a lot of things. He thought about Akio. He wondered if Akio had seen his daughter, the one who hadn’t visited. Obito wondered if he’d ever be stable enough to lead what he considered a productive life. Obito thought about his dogs, the ones he’d neglected, the ones Kakashi had started feeding and walking. On Saturday, he refused to eat. He told a nurse that he wasn’t feeling well and he went back to his room to write again. Writing became like breathing, for him. He wrote about everything he felt, everything he thought, bouncing back and forth until he found a happy medium. The doctors had started talking about releasing him, but he didn’t think he was ready for a release. He hadn’t seen Kakashi in weeks -- Obito didn’t even know if Kakashi would show up, if he was released.

On Sunday, the nurses sang him _Happy Birthday_ over oatmeal and peaches. Sometime after, he saw Akio again. The man had lost weight and he had bandages wrapped around his wrists. Just like that, they were roommates again. Obito didn’t ask what had happened, and Akio didn’t share. They spent lunch together, both of them content enough to share a table, and then Obito went back to writing. Akio pulled out his old puzzle book. When visitation hours arrived, Obito had no one. Obito closed his journal and walked down the hallway toward his room. Some part of him had expected the outcome. Kakashi didn’t do what he didn’t want to do -- he could be stubborn, at the best of times.

“There you are, Obito! You have a visitor today.” A nurse touched his shoulder and then pointed toward the cafeteria room. Obito looked down at his journal, then over toward the door of his room. He really didn’t want to see Rin again. He really didn’t want to hear more empty promises. Maybe he just wanted to be alone. “You don’t want to see him?”

_Him_. Obito turned back toward the cafeteria room, his head held high. He marched toward it, going over his words multiple times, trying to find the best opening he could find. His anger pooled beneath the surface, reaching new heights. When he entered the room, unchecked rage boiling in his gut, mouth poised to let out a string of curse words, he stopped. Kakashi sat there, a small, chocolate cupcake sitting in the center of his table. As Kakashi noticed Obito, he rose from the chair. Kakashi opened his mouth to speak, but Obito was already on him. Obito crushed Kakashi in a hug. The staff frowned on public displays of affection, but Obito gave them the proverbial middle finger and crashed his lips onto Kakashi’s.

“I’m sorry I’m late, Obito.”

“What the fuck have you been doing, Bakashi? You don’t call. You don’t show up. And you bring me this stupid cupcake?”

“It’s not stupid. It’s chocolate.”

“I hate you.”

“I love you too, Obito.”

Obito hadn’t tasted chocolate in over a month, so he savored the cupcake. The chocolate icing should have been a little too much, on top of the chocolate cake, but Obito loved Kakashi’s cupcakes. Kakashi watched him devour the food, an amused smile on his face, and then he looked down at the table. Nothing good ever came from avoiding eye contact. Obito wondered if Kakashi came to serve him divorce papers, despite being empty-handed. The other visitors faded into the background, their conversations all muted. Obito set the cupcake wrapper back on the table and then he looked at the window at Kakashi’s back. They only had ten more minutes left for visitation, but Obito didn’t care if they spent it in silence.

“Do you want to go home, Obito?”


End file.
